“What’s the matter here?” demanded the general.
“Matter enough!” spoke one in the group. “Hello, Bill. The Injuns are out. They’ve crossed the line, goin’ north. Several parties of ’em, both Sioux an’ Cheyennes. Yes, sir. The lid’s off an’ the pot’s bubblin’. One party had women an’ children, but the bucks are in their war paint, an’ they’re raidin’ right an’ left. The stages have quit, till things simmer down agin, an’ the settlers ought to be warned.”
With parting word, and with grave face, issuing his crisp “For-r-r’d—march!” repeated by the bugles, the general pressed on.
On the second day they approached a station which, alas, presented a different aspect. From afar it showed, beside the trail, blackened and smoking and partially razed to the ground.
“Lookout Station,” informed Wild Bill.
“Bad work there,” quoth the general, abruptly, spurring Custis Lee.
The Delawares arrived first, to nose about, and to stand surveying.
“They’ve found something,” declared Wild Bill.
He, and the general, and Adjutant Moylan galloped forward; Ned plugged after; the column followed at a trot.
Bad work, indeed. Much of the buildings was in ashes, still smouldering. A portion of the heavy chinked log walls jutted up charred and ugly. The Delawares were clustered, at one side, on the plain, examining a mass difficult to determine, at a little distance. But a nearer view told. The litter once had been human beings.